Lucas Carmichael and Scott Anderson had it all, money, fame, and fortune. But one night's stupid mistake takes everything they thought they cherished and dumps it upside down.

A car accident ends Lucas' life and leaves Scott injured and bitter.

As the local ME, Tracy York, investigates the case, discrepancies begin to point to more than a simple drunk driving incident.

When threats are made to Tracy's life can Scott and his guardian angel, Lucas, protect her, or will she become another casualty?

Tracy watched those lips that had fueled thousands of fantasies edge nearer and wondered if she was going to hyperventilate. Scott Anderson was about to kiss her. How had this happened? And even more, how was she going to go back to her normal, everyday life after he left?

Then his mouth touched hers and everything went into slow-mo. Every inch of skin became incredibly sensitized, even the follicles of her hair. It was crazy. And wildly exhilarating. He smelled of wine and chocolate and she was never going to get over him.

His hands delved into her hair, holding her head in place for his kisses. And there was a reason he was a movie sex symbol, the man could kiss. Her toes curled and her fingers flexed against his broad chest. The heat radiating from his big body acted like an aphrodisiac, lulling her mind and rejuvenating her body.

I live in paradise along the west coast of Canada with my family and love reading, writing, and flower gardening. Oh, and I can't function without coffee! Preferably at the beach with my sweetheart. :)

I write Romantic Suspense with tough, alpha males who know what they want until they're gob-smacked by heroines who are strong, contemporary women willing to show them what they really need is love.

I've been blessed with a long, happy marriage and enjoy writing romance novels that end with happy-ever-afters.

Get your #FREE copy today for a limited time!

File U for upside down. Lexi Robertson's carefully constructed life is about to be turned upside down.

Recently hired as Club di Energia's physiotherapist, the stunning yet insecure twenty-six year old finally thinks she has a handle on her physically and mentally damaging past. The only way Lexi can cope is by compartmentalizing her feelings with a unique, internal filing system. To maintain order, Lexi has a firm set of boundaries in place, and she never lets anyone too close.

File N for not happening. Lexi has no intention of giving in to the charming Lucca Caruso when he comes into her clinic for an emergency physiotherapy session. Despite his painstakingly handsome face and Italian that renders her speechless, Lexi is able to resist.

A Tuscany vacation with her best friend is just what Lexi needs to stop worrying about life and start enjoying it. A cooking course at a villa near the Chianti hills, just outside of Florence, will take her mind off a certain set of mesmerising azure blue eyes.

File F for fate. Lexi never expected to see the Italian god again, but they're staying at the same villa.

For someone that purposely refuses to feel, Lexi finds herself on a journey of self-discovery, helplessly folding, melting, and crumbling under the temptation of her heart's desire.

An emotional, erotic, heart-wrenching story of lust, love, and light.

Lexi struggles to confide in Lucca, slowly learning how to love and trust. Lucca is a gentle, patient lover with a heart of gold, but his need for Lexi is insatiable. He's the man we all want and can't get enough of.

Through the passion of lust and the sweetness of love, Lexi spreads her wings towards the light … until her past comes back to haunt her.

A hot and sexy story of survival, acceptance, learning to trust, and believing. One woman's destiny to find her light, and the one man who can take here there.

Welcome to the Luminara series.

I made a choice tonight; it was my decision to be in Lucca’s company, and I have to say I’ve enjoyed it in ways I never thought imaginable for me. Even though Hazel has been protective, she hasn’t had to rescue me, per se. I’ve been perfectly safe.

Hazel excuses herself to go to the restroom now, leaving me to explain. As soon as she has left, Lucca reaches for my hand again, brushing his thumb over my wrist. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m confused, I guess, and overwhelmed still.”

“Do you regret meeting me or sharing a meal with me even?”

Do I? I don’t think I do.

“No, I don’t. I said before you have every right to be here, and dinner was lovely, unexpected, but nice.”

“Do you mean the food or the company?”

Both.

I blush.

“Doc, I would like to be honest with you, and I would hate for you to walk away tonight before I told you how I feel. I was hurt to fuck earlier when you were distressed, and I am honoured you agreed to eat with me. I know this is a lot for you to take in. When I asked you out to dinner at the clinic, I meant every word. One look at you in that clinic and I was hopeless for you. I admit that I intended to go back to the clinic to try and persuade you to go on a date with me because I have never wanted anything more. Tonight is not how I imagined it would go, or dreamed we would be doing this, here, so soon, but I am delighted we are. I would be lying if I told you otherwise.” He sighs, takes a drink of wine, then continues.

“I know this is not a date, but in a way it has meant more to me and has been most enjoyable.” I must look puzzled because my pathetic sobbing earlier was not my idea of enjoyable.

“You seemed closed and opposed to the idea of ever seeing me again. Tonight was a pleasant surprise because you eventually softened and relaxed, and that is endearing … to watch you flourish. You never shut me out and gave me a chance. When I held you in my arms, it just reinforced everything I have been feeling and thinking since yesterday.”

“Oh?” He has been thinking about me?

“I do not want to let you walk away, Lexi. I want you to agree to a proper date. I want to hold you in my arms and wipe away your tears. I want to get to know you, caress and comfort you. I would love nothing more than to kiss you, taste your sweet lips and cradle you in my arms until you peacefully fell asleep in my embrace. And for the record, about the rescuing … I would love to be the one to rescue you … protect you … treat you … make you feel … show you life through new eyes … teach you to value yourself … make you feel alive.”

"SJ Molloy, first time British Author from Scotland, has found her way into the hearts of the US and all over the world. I found this book really refreshing in that the back story of the heroine was thought provoking and there was enough detail to get the idea without it being gratuitous. The book in my opinion was very well written. The book definitely had a 50 Shades feel to it, and the sex scenes were very erotic. Well done, SJ Molloy, you will be reaching for the next book in the series like I did!" ~ Books and Beyond Fifty Shades

***

"SJ Molloy writes her stories the way that we talk about books—with Heart and Passion. Reading her characters’ intense chemistry makes a person yearn to reach out and possess that themselves. This author has left a huge imprint on me, and I cannot wait to see what she deals out next." ~ The SubClub Books

SJ Molloy, British Author of ‘The Luminara Series’ was born in Edinburgh, Scotland. As a young child, her family moved and raised her in Lanarkshire, Scotland where she currently resides with her husband, two daughters and her energetic, hyperactive loving gun dog who is utterly spoiled.

When she is not writing or reading, spending time with family and friends or exercising and walking her dog, SJ loves all things practical and creative. Dancing, music, cooking, travelling, good food and wine and painting are her favourite past times along with laughter, lots and lots of laughter.

Title: Didn't I Warn You

Series: Bad for You #1

Author: Amber Bardan

Publisher: Harlequin

Genre: Erotic Thriller

Release Date: April 18, 2016

Blurb

Not everything dangerous is bad.

From the moment Angelina laid eyes on him, she fell into a fantasy. Mysterious, foreign, gorgeous, Haithem offered her what she needed most—a chance to feel again.

But Haithem is much more than he appears to be. He lives in a world of danger where everything comes at a price.

For Angelina, that price is her future.

He's made sure the life she's left behind is in tatters. Made her family believe she's dead. Still, he talks about protecting her, about keeping her safe, but she can't distinguish his truth from his lies. She can't separate her pleasure from his betrayal.

Haithem warned her. He told her he'd make her heart race, her body come alive and her most primal needs rush to the surface. His for the taking.

He didn't say she'd come to love the devil who's destroying her, even as he keeps her prisoner.

Prologue Long fingers close around my throat. Not squeezing, not hurting, but commanding. I look at him. This man I love. This devil I adore. He’s gorgeous—dark hair, darker eyes, olive skin, body and features all chiseled hardness. But that’s not what makes my veins jump under his hand. That’s not what makes my skin slick with sweat. There’s more to this man than meets the eye. His thumb strokes my pulse, gleaning secrets right out of my blood. His mouth curls to the side, forming a smile that reveals he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Didn’t I warn you, Angel,” he says, and his thumb moves up to my chin, “that it’s not a good idea to love me?” My pulse leaps from erratic to chaotic. I can’t answer, only listen in horrified fascination to what I know will come next. He traces the groove below my bottom lip. “Didn’t I warn you my love would be bad?” Shivers run hot then cold over my skin. “Didn’t I tell you, you’d pay for my heart?” He touches my mouth, dragging my bottom lip down. My body sings, my blood hums right down to my womb. I can’t resist him. He did warn me. He truly did. But I was greedy. I wanted him anyway. I didn’t understand how bad he could be. He’s the devil. Tempting me with what I desire most. Luring me to an irresistible destruction. A destruction I’m so close to I can smell it—taste it—touch it. Pain grips me, my insides bruise with it. My family believes I’m dead. The life I’ve left behind lies in tatters because of him. Because he keeps me. He won’t let me go. He tilts my face, brushing his cheek against my ear. “I promise it will be worth it.” His stubble chafes my earlobe, stinging and electrifying. I’ve felt those bristles scrape against my neck, my breasts, my thighs. There’s not an inch of me that hasn’t felt the sweet torture of their abrasion. “Can’t you see it?” he asks. “The future where you’re mine?” My eyelids drift shut. I know it’s only the hand cradling my face that’s holding me up. I can see that future. I see it with fluorescent intensity. Life with the lights turned on. Life where living means more than existing. For everything he’s taken from me, he’s given me back more. He breathed a soul back into me. Without it, without him, I’d be a walking corpse. I see our future. I ache for it, yearn for it, despise myself for it. “Say it, Angel. Say, Haithem, I’m yours.” For all intents and purposes, I’m a prisoner—captive—perhaps even a slave. Because I have no choices but the ones he gives me. Yet, he gives me this choice—or at least the illusion of a choice—to choose him. To love him. As if making a choice had ever been an option. The moment I met him, I may as well have been branded.

Author Bio

After spending years imagining fictional adventures, Amber finally found a way to turn daydreaming into a productive habit. She now spends her time in a coffee-fuelled adrenaline haze, writing romance with a thriller edge.

She lives with her husband and children in semi-rural Australia, where if she peers outside at the right moment she might just see a kangaroo bounce by.

Amber is an award winning writer, Amazon Bestselling Author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild, and Writers Victoria.

Sarah has finally escaped the man who almost had her forever but never had her heart, but she's still left hurt and confused. Now she's even more cautious than she was before when it comes to life, and especially men.

Matt Lewis is the guitarist in the band Blacking Out, and while he has women flinging themselves at him every night, the second he sees Sarah he knows his playboy days are over. When he rescues Sarah from her past, he's determined to become her future and he'll stop at nothing to make her his. While Sarah wants to commit to more than just a fling, she's not sure she can ever move past what she's been through.

Matt knows how to play Sarah's body, but can he find the right chord to strike her heart?

Diemme Black is an author of adult romance novels who loves captivating her readers with stories about real women and masculine men who love them. In writing her books, Diemme gives a voice to women who deserve to be heard and does it in a way that keeps you enthralled and wanting more. And, of course, the romance and erotic scenes are a nice plus.

Diemme has been married to her husband for over a decade and is still madly in love. Diemme lives on the West Coast, likes to travel to all different beach destinations, and loves the sun and the sand. She thoroughly enjoys reading other erotica romance and adult romance novels.

The entire Inferno Glory MC series in paperback (Leather & Lace, Pleasure & Pain, Torture & Agony, Death & Rage, Revenge & Love).The day Harley Sonnick is released from a three year prison sentence for a crime she didn’t willingly commit, she returns to the only family she has left—the Inferno Glory MC. But the club’s president isn’t ready to forgive her for past sins and turns her away, forcing her to trust in a new club member who’s arguably the sexiest man she’s ever laid eyes on.

Colt Sawyer, a young military veteran like the other MC members, is elusive and doesn’t have much to do with the women throwing themselves at him until Harley comes riding into his life on her own motorcycle. Together with his best friend and fellow MC member Ranger, Colt will do everything in his power to remind Harley what it’s like to be pleasured by a man and make her feel at home despite the reluctance of the MC.

Things take an unexpected turn when Harley’s worldly possessions are ripped away, forcing her to rethink her future. But she isn’t a pathetic princess in need of saving and is reluctant to accept help. Prison made her hard, forcing her to guard her feelings at all costs. So when dark, blue eyed Colt does inexplicable things to both her body and heart, she’s forced down a dark path of passion and desire that threatens all the safeguards she’s set in place.

When I step into the living room, the two gorgeous men each drink in the slinky dress I bought with Kandi like they’ve never seen a woman before. Being locked in a cell with nothing better to do gave me time to take care of my body, and it’s paid off. Never have I felt so wanted as I do now with a slim waist and smooth muscles. Even my breasts appear bigger with all the muscle beneath them.

“Holy shit,” Colt mutters, struggling to swallow. Guess he appreciates Kandi’s pampering as much as I do.

“Kandi said you wanted us to stop by early so we could talk,” Ranger says, narrowing his wandering eyes.

“None of your fucking business,” I retort, stopping in front of them. The strappy heels Kandi insisted that I buy bring me closer to Colt’s eye level, though I’m still several inches shorter than Ranger. I fold my arms at my waist and put on my best hardened expression. “I heard the cat’s out of the bag. Kandi said you told her I spent time in prison.”

“Wasn’t me, if that where you’re fucking goin’ with this,” Ranger growls. His tattooed arms cross over his solid chest. “Ain’t my business where you’ve been.”

“Well she made it sound like you guys also think I’m a lesbian,” I say, sliding my cynical gaze to Colt. I take a step closer, brushing my fingertips against his bare arm. “Do you think just because I was locked up with a bunch of women I must’ve changed sides, or is it because I could keep up with you on my bike?” I press my hips into his legs and drag a strand of his soft hair behind his ear. “Is there something about me that says I like to eat pussy?”

“Sh-it!” Colt stutters, nearly choking on a barking laugh. “I mean…no fuckin’ way.” Strong arms wrap around my waist as his beautiful blue eyes steal my breath away. I feel his cock instantly harden against my belly as his gaze begins to burn with wanton. “Unless…do you? Nothin’ wrong with a little of that now and then.”

“Never tried it,” I answer, slowly running my fingers down the tight ridges of his chest to the bulge in his jeans. When I wrap my fingers around his shaft, he flinches beneath my touch. The dude feels so ginormous inside my hand that I almost lose my shit on the spot. “While I was inside, I’d spend every night fantasizing about the men I’d fuck when I was released. Then I’d touch myself, but my fingers aren’t shit compared to the size of men I prefer.”

“Oh yeah. The bigger the better,” I say with a dark smile, squeezing his cock and making him twitch. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to prove to both of you just how much I like dick. In my mouth, pussy, or even my ass…it doesn’t matter so long as it’s thick and rock hard.” This time when I tighten my fingers around his cock and smirk at Ranger, it solicits a dark growl from both their throats. “You think you’re big enough to get the job done, Colt?”

“Fuck yeah,” he answers with a determined glare.

Ranger breaths heavily at my side. “Fuckin’-a that’s hot.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “What about you, big guy? You think you’ve got what it takes to make me satisfied?” Colt’s arms are still tight around me when I hook my arm through Ranger’s, dragging him in closer. “You think I’d like the feel of your cock inside my pussy?”

“Fuckin’ right I do,” Ranger growls, reaching for the back of my neck. He wastes no time in crashing his lips down over mine. As his tongue slips inside my mouth, meeting mine with hard strokes, Colt pushes his strained cock against me and begins kissing the skin on my bare shoulder.

Holy shit, I’ve never done anything like this with two men at once. Ranger tastes like the best kind of candy as his expert lips go to work and Colt’s tongue against my skin is a searing reminder of how much I missed out on in three years. I’d never been to prison before, either, and guess I could consider this a reward for the hell I went through. The two men’s musky scents combine in a delightful blend of leather and spicy cologne that curls my toes and warms every crevice of my body.

Long fingers cup my ass, hauling me closer to Ranger as he devours my mouth. Colt’s busy fondling my breasts over the material of the slinky dress while kissing and nipping the skin at my cleavage. It’s his lips I’ve been dying to taste, though Ranger’s kisses are far better than I ever would’ve guessed.

There’s no way I’ll last long with these two gorgeous men touching me simultaneously.

Author Bio

J. A. Fredericks is the contemporary and paranormal steamy romance author of the the Fifty Kinds of Dead series, Inferno Glory MC series and its spinoff Jawa's Angels MC. Just like her characters, she’s really into music, tattoos, and motorcycles. Rather than riding bitch forever on her husband’s Harley, however, she hopes to one day get her license and at least pretend to be as badass as the heroines she writes about. She lives in rural Minnesota with her husband and kids.

What the hell do I know about raising a baby? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

Yet here I am, the sole guardian of my niece. I’d be lost if it weren’t for Katherine, the beautiful girl who seems to have all the answers. Katherine, who’s slowly finding her way into my cynical heart.

I keep reminding myself that I can’t fall for someone when we don’t have a future. But telling myself this lie and believing it are two different things.

Katherine…

When Brady shows up on a Harley, looking like an avenging angel—six feet, three inches of chiseled muscle, eyes the color of wild sage, and sun-kissed skin emblazoned with tattoos—I’m not sure if I should fall at his feet or run like hell. Because if I tell him what happened the night his family died, he might hate me.

What I don’t count on are the nights we spend together trying to forget the heartache that brought us here. I promise him it won’t mean anything, that I won’t fall in love.

Shameless is an adult contemporary romance/spinoff featuring a character from The Dearest Series, but it can be read as a complete standalone. Shameless is on SALE for 99 cents only during the pre-order, which is available now.

The Dearest Series Boxed Set just went live and is FREE on KU for a limited time. Get all three Dearest Series books, including Dearest Clementine, Finding Dandelion and Kissing Madeline, as well as Dearest Series bonus scenes and the first chapter of Shameless.

Lex writes adult novels, the sexy kind with lotsa angst, a whole lotta kissing, and the hot happily ever afters. When she's not writing, she lives a parallel life as an English teacher. She loves printing black and white photos, listening to music on vinyl, and getting lost in a great book. Bitten by wanderlust, she's lived all over the country but currently resides in the City of Angels with her husband and twin daughters.

(NOT SO) GOOD IN A ROOM, a romantic comedy novella by USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Dakota Madison, is a modern reimagining of Cyrano de Bergerac.

Awkward screenwriter Nellie Berg is great with words, as long as she can write them down. She’s written over thirty action scripts, but has been unable to sell a single one to Hollywood. Instead of working the room, every time Nellie tries to pitch her scripts to producers she becomes overcome with anxiety and completely blanks out.

When Nellie meets another aspiring screenwriter, Roscoe Rhodes, at Pitchfestapalooza they form an unlikely friendship. Roscoe is everything Nellie is not: outgoing, witty, charming…and good in a room. Roscoe suggests that Nellie hire his cousin, Chris, an unemployed actor to pitch her scripts to producers.

Things get complicated when Nellie falls for Chris and she seeks Roscoe’s help to seal the deal. Roscoe realizes he actually has feelings for Nellie. And Hollywood falls in love with the hot the new pretend screenwriter, who has never even read an entire script let alone written one.

When I finally make it out of the ballroom and into the hotel lobby I do my best to compose myself, but to no avail. I’m definitely going to throw up.

I hurry into the ladies room and just make it to the toilet before I begin to dry heave. My stomach was so twisted with nerves I couldn’t eat anything all day so there’s nothing of any significance to come up.

Tears begin to stream down my face and within moments I’m a sobbing heap of hopelessness on the bathroom floor. I allow myself to release all of the tension I’ve been holding in and wail for several minutes. When I finally feel like I’ve cried the well dry I take in what I hope will be a deep, calming breath.

Will I ever be able to pitch without experiencing complete and utter terror? How will I ever make it in the business if I can’t?

You have to pull yourself together, Nellie.

A knock on the stall I’m occupying startles me.

Then I hear a female voice say, “Is everything okay in there?”

“Fuck off.” The harsh words pop out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. I don’t mean to be rude, but it seems to happen a lot.

I hear the sound of footsteps as whoever I just swore at scurries out of the bathroom.

As I pull myself up from the floor I hike up the white tights that have gathered at my knees. I do my best to smooth out the wrinkles in the black and white polka dot dress I’m wearing.

I slowly step out of the stall and glance around the bathroom just to make sure it’s empty.

I would glance at myself in the mirror, but I know it would just make me feel worse than I already do. Not only would I be a failure, I’d be a hideous looking one as well. I’d like to at least be able to function under the illusion that I’m not completely repulsive looking.

Unfortunately my body isn’t quick enough for my brain. I catch a glance at my reflection in the mirror as I pass by. It’s even worse than I imagined it would be. Calling me frightening looking would be a compliment.

I give my reflection the middle finger as I walk out of the bathroom.

I must still be in a post-anxiety-attack fog because I don’t even see the young producer I attempted to pitch to until I plow right into him.

“I’m so sorry.” I’m surprised when coherent words actually come out of my mouth this time.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“No,” I sputter as I hurry away before I embarrass myself even further.

I scan the large lobby. It’s packed with lines of screenwriters waiting to pitch to producers. There’s one dark corner on the opposite side of the crowded area that looks like a safe zone where I can hide and catch my breath.

I close my eyes for a moment and rub my temples. I’m probably ten minutes away from a major headache on top of everything else.

When I open my eyes I see a very tall guy headed in my direction. Of course I’m only five feet tall, so nearly everyone on the planet over the age of ten is taller than me, but this guy is like a giant. His hair and eyes are as dark as mine, but his are on a much more attractive package.

For some reason the guy is waving a pack of gum at me.

“Want a piece?” he asks.

In a room filled with hundreds of people why on Earth has he singled me out? And why would he think I want gum?

He waits for several moments and stares at me. When I don’t reply he says, “No gum I guess.”

“Please go somewhere that isn’t here.”

He frowns. “Like you own Pitchfestapalooza.”

“Find your own corner,” I hiss.

I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t budge. He continues to stare at me, like he’s examining a specimen.

I shoot daggers at him hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Fine, I’ll go. Sorry for invading your personal space.”

When he takes off into the sea of emerging screenwriters I breathe a small sigh of relief.

Don’t you just love that term? Emerging screenwriter. It’s a nice way to say wannabe.

That’s what we are. Wannabes. Every person here is scrounging for that one break that will finally get him or her into the business.

I can’t waste my one shot at finally making my dream come true.

I remove my one-sheet from my handbag and stare at it. I’ve gone over my logline and story synopsis thousands of times. I’ve got every word on the page memorized. I have no idea why I can’t just say the words when I actually sit down to pitch.

I have to do this. I have to at least try again. I’d never be able to live with myself if I gave up so easily.

I shove my one-sheet back into my handbag as I make my way over to one of the lines of writers waiting for the opportunity to meet with an action film producer.

Pitchfestapalooza is run like a well-oiled machine. I have to give credit where credit is due. Screenwriters line up to meet with producers by genre and lines keep moving at a fairly brisk pace. It’s set up a little like speed dating, but we’re pitching producers for deals, not trying to score with the opposite sex.

Luckily the line I’ve selected isn’t that long. It’s about half as long as the lines for the screenwriters pitching horror scripts or comedy projects. I’m not surprised that I’m the only female in line. It’s pretty well known that there’s sexism in the film industry, but it seems to be even worse when it comes to action movies.

But I love the genre, and even though I have a vagina, I can’t see myself writing anything else.

I don’t realize until he turns around that I’m standing right behind the tall guy who offered me the gum.

He flashes me a charismatic smile. The type of grin you might see on a used car salesman or politician.

Why do I get the feeling this guy could sell dirt to a farmer?

“So what do you have against gum?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Then it’s me you don’t like.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Then let’s remedy that situation right now.” He extends a hand for me to shake. “I’m Roscoe Rhodes.”

I’m sure he’s wondering why I’m not returning the gesture. I don’t like touching people I don’t know. It’s one of my numerous obsessions.

He waits for a long moment. When it’s obvious I’m not going to shake his hand he says, “You know, Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“My name’s not Dorothy.”

“At least I got you to say something.”

“Nellie Berg,” I tell him. “And how did you know I’m from Kansas?”

“I didn’t. You’re dressed like Dorothy Gale. What’s up with that outfit?”

I look down at my black patent leather shoes, white tights, black and white polka dot skirt. Then I glance around me. Everyone else is wearing dress jeans and button-down shirts with their sleeves rolled up to their elbows. Somehow I must have missed the screenwriters’ attire memo.

So in addition to being a bundle of nerves I look completely and totally out of place. Isn’t that just great for my self-esteem?

“You know this producer only makes action films,” Roscoe says.

I don’t even try to hide my scowl. “I know that.”

He points to another line directly across the lobby from us. “The line for romantic comedy is over there.”

“So?” I glare at him.

“Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable over there?”

“You mean somewhere where there isn’t a misogynistic jerk standing in front of me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve written a script for an action movie?”

As I shake my head defiantly I wonder why I’m even talking to this asshole.

“Then what are you doing in this line?” His condescending tone is really starting to piss me off.

“I’ve written scripts for thirty action movies.” Choke on that you prick.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who would be interested in writing action scripts.”

“And why is that? Because I’m female? Have you bought into the sexist notion that women can’t write action scripts?”

I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him. As much as I’d like him to crawl into a hole somewhere he stares right back at me.

“Maybe it’s the pink polka dot purse you’re holding. That just screams action film. Or the outfit you’re wearing. If Shirley Temple and Dorothy Gale had a love child she would dress like you. Except you look more like a Munchkin with your little round face and tiny body.”

USA TODAY Bestselling author Dakota Madison is known for writing romance with a little spice and lots of heart. She likes to explore current social issues in her work. Dakota is a winner of the prestigious RONE Award for Excellence in the Indie and Small Publishing Industry. When she's not at her computer creating spicy stories Dakota likes to spend time with her husband and their bloodhounds at their home outside Phoenix, Arizona. Dakota also writes under the pen names SAVANNAH YOUNG, SIERRA AVALON and REN MONTERREY.